I Guess It's Just Us, Now
by Sueg5123
Summary: Post-Season 3, and the only logical progression...


**I Guess It's Just Us, Now**

"Aren't you ready?" Will stood in the door, already changed from Armani to street clothes.

She looked up from piles of paper stacked on her desk and gave him a wan smile.

"I know—I'm running late. Sorry. It's been, well, um, it's been a _day_." She moved a sheaf of papers to the Out basket for Millie to deal with tomorrow.

He plowed into a chair. "Guess that means you didn't catch the show, even from up here," giving a nod to the wall monitor.

Picking up on his slight disappointment, she attempted to make amends. "Sorry. Tonight was the senator from Texas, wasn't it? How'd the interview go?"

"Nailed it. Him, too, by the way." He exuded contented smugness.

"I'll make sure and look at it tomorrow," she promised, as she began winding things up. She pulled three folders into her folio, then pushed the others back to the edge of her desk.

"Homework?" He didn't sound pleased.

"Just a few things I ought to look at. The Upfront is next week, and Pruit wants a draft presentation. Plus, I need to look for a few crumbs in the news division budget."

Will made face and took the folio out of her hands. "Not tonight, babe. Your day has been long enough and I'm pulling rank."

That made her giggle and she rose and rubbed her baby bump appreciatively. "I have you out-ranked, you know."

"Out-numbered, anyway," he allowed. "Anyway, humor me. Let's go home. It's a nice place, now that it has actual walls and furniture and plumbing."

Her expression softened and she rose. "Buy me dinner?"

"Just pick the continent."

"Mmm. I'm thinking maybe Thai tonight."

"That wouldn't be one of those legendary cravings I've heard about?"

"Shut up and call your car, Billy," she said, managing a stagey lascivious wink.

The limo ride home was mostly quiet, attended only by the brief necessities of getting in and getting out. Since it was their regular driver, there wasn't any need to advise him of destination. Will phoned in the delivery order en route, watching her closely as he spoke into the phone, to see whether she concurred with the order, but her only reaction was to whisper a supplemental order for tom yam.

Once at home, however, Mac began again, with something that had run around her brain all day.

"I don't know how Charlie did this."

"You'll be fine. He had a lot of confidence in you. I do, too," with a kiss and a hopeful smile.

She dropped her still voluminous bag and slipped out of her shoes.

"Will, you don't—I mean, you were gone—in jail—so you don't know how things went a couple of months ago. Charlie went from being our defender to—I don't know—Pruit's enforcer? I mean, it was a real shock, a total mental shift for the lot of us, and it began to undermine our confidence. In him. In ourselves. In what we were trying to accomplish. That last night, when Charlie came barreling into the bullpen—I was convinced he intended to fire both Sloan and me for insubordination—"

His expression had gone from slack to sour, as if he didn't want to hear more.

"—And then, when he collapsed right there, there was just the briefest moment when I was—" Mac met Will's eyes, then they both looked away. "—just a tiny bit relieved. A brief moment when we weren't adversarial. Of course, once I realized the gravity of what was happening—it was awful," she hastened to add. "I felt disloyal. Guilty. I loved Charlie, and Sloan did, too, but it was so hard to watch him suddenly seeming to backtrack from principles that we believed we all shared."

"Charlie knew to pick his battles. You're going to have to do that, as well."

"I hope I can. I don't want to be the one who breaks faith with the folks in the news room."

oooo

After dinner, they lingered at the table while Will finished his glass of wine.

"So—I'm guessing it didn't go well today?"

"Mainly just me, just my feelings, you know? I mean, Kendra's going to do great on dayside, and she took Tess with her, so they're both set for—"

"Soft landings," he acknowledged. "The newsroom is going to miss them. Though I hope you warned them adequately about Tony Hart. What about—"

"Gary's staying with _News Night_. Also Tamara and Jenna."

"Loyalty is a great thing."

She snorted. "Not to hurt your feelings, but some of that decision is more financial than loyalty. We can still afford Gary, and the other two are at bargain basement salaries."

"Who does that leave?"

"Martin."

His eyebrows lifted. "And what's going on with Martin?"

"I had to tell him that Kendra's position wouldn't be filled. So, not only does he have to absorb the across-the-board staff pay cut of 10 percent, but there isn't even a senior producer's job to aspire to." Mac shook her head. "Martin said he wants to try something different. His father evidently works for Morningstar, so he wants to try being a financial analyst for a while—"

"Is that something you can just leap into? Analyzing, I mean?"

"I really don't know, off-hand, what qualifications he may have for that." She shrugged. "Anyway, sometimes nepotism trumps ability, doesn't it?"

"Ask anyone in Congress," he returned, dryly. "But there's something else, isn't there?" He could read her all too well.

She looked down, the emotion plainly getting to her.

"I had to tell Jim he's got to absorb a big pay cut."

"A pay _cut_?"

"Well—more like, he isn't going to get what I was getting for being your EP."

He relaxed a bit. "Hardly a pay cut. You came to the job with a lot more experience."

She nodded. "I think I can convince Pruit to give Jim a raise in a few months. Basic parity, anyway. But then there's Don—"

Will sat upright.

"Pruit wants to cut Don?"

"Not Don's position—just his salary. He says, why does the second string command first string money?"

"I'll take care of this," Will vowed.

"No, you won't." Then, when he didn't respond, she repeated, "No. You _won't_. Will, look at me. You know that isn't the way to handle this."

"I generate an annual profit of $210 million on my own, and that's not counting the lead-in freight I push to 9 and 10," Will responded, with some heat. "Pruit'll listen to me."

"Will." Both her hands had dropped to the table and she looked at him. "You can't do that." Pause. "Jim will be okay in a few months. Even Pruit can be convinced in a few months. As for Don, Elliot wants to take this on."

"But Don and I—"

"Let Elliot do this."

She stared him into submission.

"I'll talk to Elliot. If he needs back-up, I'm here."

"We all know you're here, Will." She reached out and squeezed his hand.

"Well. We're going to get through this," Will said, rising and stacking their plates in the kitchen sink. "Pruit is only slightly more arrogant than Reese, and probably a sight more capricious than Leona, so once we get to know each other better—"

"There's Sloan." The flat tone of her voice warned him.

"Sloan?"

"I knew it was going to be really hard for her to pull this out—after the thing with Pruit and that stalker app."

He'd heard about the episode, mainly as the preface to Charlie's demise, but he still hadn't seen a recording of that telecast. Had it been that explosive? Explosive enough that Pruit would continue to hold a grudge against Sloan?

Mac hesitated. "I'm going to hate losing her the most."

"What? Did Pruit—?"

"No. I did. Today." Her dejection was obvious. "It wasn't arbitrary. Sloan and I talked about it, and she knew she'd never have another chance with Lucas. I wanted to fight for her—but she didn't want to stay anymore." Pause. "Plus, she really does feel responsible for Charlie, you know."

"Then, where?" he asked softly.

"Oh, Bloomberg is making a space for her. Probationary for the first six months, but I'm sure she'll blow them away."

He flexed an eyebrow. "I assume you put in a word or two on her behalf?"

Her expression made the answer plain.

"Okay. Sloan's taken care of. Maggie's moved up. We'll wait and see about Jim and Don. It's a shame about Martin, but the others all seem to be in good positions."

"There's one more," she reminded. "Neal."

"Our blue jewel. Don't tell me _he's_ leaving. We're going to need him around to ride herd on that gaggle of internet idiots Pruit installed."

"Neal's decided he wants to be journalist, not just a technology geek. His experience last year cemented his interest."

"That's a good thing," Will allowed slowly, sensing that Mac was withholding a caveat. "What's the problem with that?"

"No degree. No real professional credentials. No ability to compete with these gimlet-eyed little interns from J-schools."

Will shrugged. "Most of Murrow's boys didn't have degrees in journalism and they learned it all on the job. Ernie Pyle never finished university, and neither did Brian Williams."

"Seat-of-the-pants journalism is passé, Will, you know that." She crossed her arms. "So, we're going to send him to city university for the formalities."

"ACN is? That's great." A look of doubt crossed his features. "How'd you ever get Pruit to agree to that?"

"My new HR initiative. Tuition assistance for employees. As it turns out, I have some latitude to develop programs that benefit recruiting and retention." She looked mildly triumphant. "So, Neal moves to part-time at _News Night_ to accommodate his studies, but this is the best thing for him and it will be worth the trade-off for the show, in the long run."

"Sounds like a successful day after all, Madame President. Everyone has options—good options, too, thanks to you."

"Then, why do I feel so—overwhelmed?"

He lightly put his hands on her shoulders and began to steer her down the hallway. "Because—as Charlie Skinner always knew—being a super-hero is exhausting work. Let's get you some rest, Kenz."


End file.
